No Time Like The Present
by Lady Bracknell
Summary: As Christmas approaches, Remus wonders what to buy Tonks. He wants to get her something special to let her know how he feels about her, but the only problem is, he really can’t think of anything…. Prequel to The Werewolf Who Stole Christmas.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not JK Rowling, ergo anything you recognise from the wonderful world of Harry Potter is hers and not mine.   
**

**A/N: This is a prequel to The Werewolf Who Stole Christmas, which was originally written for the MetamorficMoon Fic Advent on Live Journal, where I was given the prompts tinsel and cobbles. Enjoy! **

* * *

Christmas presents had always been a tricky thing for Remus.

At Hogwarts, Sirius had always had money for stunning gifts. Despite his strained relationship with his family, his parents had always made sure he had galleons to spare for expensive gifts for his friends – wanting him to keep up appearances – and James had had likewise amounts, although for very different reasons. Even Peter had normally forked out more than he could afford at Christmas time, and Remus had wondered, often, if Peter feared the others wouldn't like him if he didn't keep up, when really it wasn't like that at all.

He'd never had their money, but Remus had never felt lesser because of it. He'd always come up with things that he thought people would like – things that only he would think to get for them. Around July he'd start making mental notes on trips to Hogsmeade of who had said they liked what in Zonko's, of whose eyes had lit up at the thought of Droobles bubblegum in exotic flavours or a new kind of bon bon, and he'd often come up with spells for people as gifts, or tricks he knew his friends would like that involved the investment of time and effort over money.

He'd never felt that that wasn't enough, until now.

He stood, staring into the window of the jeweller's, squinting at the selection of trinkets nestled on impeccable blue velvet and wondering why the coins in his pocket felt so heavy, and yet so light and insubstantial as he gazed at the price tags.

He'd always loved Hogsmeade in winter – the leafless trees were bare and black against the twilight sky, but sparkled with frost, looking far too magical to be real, though he knew they were, and the cobbled streets, peppered with fresh snowfall, and white-topped houses and shops looked idyllic, straight off the front of a Muggle Christmas card. All the scene around him did now, though, was whisper a cold reminder of how few days there were until Christmas, how little time he had to find the perfect thing, the perfect gift that would let Tonks know – subtly, but undoubtedly – what he felt.

He'd been standing there on the cobbles for so long that his feet were numb and he couldn't feel his toes any more. And still, he hadn't decided.

There was a broach he could afford….

But it was too old fashioned, too plain, too… something.

Fleetingly he thought that maybe he should go with Molly's idea of writing her some poetry instead, but quickly discarded the idea, because it really was beyond him to come up with anything that rhymed with 'Tonks' that set the necessary romantic tone. He shifted on his frozen feet, moved a little further down the display, hoping that his eyes would fix on something that hadn't been there a minute ago – the perfect pair of earrings, the perfect bracelet, the perfect _something_….

"Wotcher."

Remus jumped.

He clutched at his chest, skidded a little on the frosty cobbles as he landed, and two dark, sparkling eyes met his.

Tonks was grinning at him, peering out from beneath a green bobble hat and above a thick knit scarf in the same colour, her nose as pink as the hair that peeked from beneath the brim of her hat. "Christmas shopping?" she said.

"Hmm," he murmured, his heart pounding with surprise, and something else entirely.

"Seen anything you like?" she asked brightly. "You've been standing there for ages. I could see you from right up the hill."

Embarrassed, Remus shifted on the cobbles again and cleared his throat. Of all the people who could have caught him staring into the jeweller's window…. "No," he said, sounding far calmer than he felt, "not yet."

"I'm rubbish with shopping," Tonks said, frowning at the thought. "Never know what to get people."

"No?" he said, even though he was sure anyone would love anything she bought them, simply because it was from her.

"I think I have a couple of girl genes missing," she said, rubbing her hands together, "the one for shopping and the one for tidying things up without causing a hurricane."

Remus chuckled, and his breath formed a tiny blue cloud and floated towards her. Tonks made a similar cloud in return, and for a moment, they shared a smile, breath mingling, eyes locked, unwavering, speaking something which he couldn't quite make out –

Or could, but wasn't certain of.

Sometimes, when they'd chatted late at night, or been stuck on a mission somewhere, he'd thought that maybe she was flirting with him – sitting a little closer than a friend would, allowing her hand to brush his when she passed him a mug of tea or offered him a biscuit. Sometimes he thought it was just wishful thinking on his part, that there was no way someone like Tonks would be interested in a pathetic moping tosser like him, but those doubts only lasted until he saw her again, and she'd stumble over her own feet when she saw him, or her eyes would be brighter when they fixed on him, or she'd sit a little closer than was purely friendly, and he'd think then that it wasn't wishful thinking at all, but something he could actually make happen.

If he had the nerve.

If he could find the perfect present.

If he didn't freeze to death before he picked something.

He wanted to get her something that spoke of intent, something that spoke of more than late night cocoa and friendly chats, something that might actually mean something to her, but whenever he'd tried to get a hint out of her on the subject of what she hoped Santa might bring her, she'd been deftly evasive on the subject, claiming that she'd be happy with a satsuma and a sugar mouse in her stocking, neither of which he felt struck a significantly romantic note.

Tonks nodded in the vague direction of the window. "Looking for anything in particular?" she said. "I'm rubbish, but if you wanted a second opinion..?"

"Oh," Remus said, trying not to seem too startled at the suggestion. "Erm – yes. I was thinking possibly about the charm bracelet?"

"Is it for some kind of bald nudist?" she said, and he laughed and shook his head, a little bewildered about what kind of friends she thought he must keep. "I'd steer clear then."

"Oh."

"Could just be me," she said, "but I always get the charms stuck in my hair or on my sleeves and stuff."

"Oh. Thanks," he said, crossing that possibility off his mental list. "Or I thought earrings, but…." He trailed off into a shrug, and gestured at the window display. "Honestly I haven't a clue," he said.

Tonks smiled at him briefly and then stepped forward, pressing her forehead to the glass and peering in, her breath turning the glass opaque. She considered the selection for a moment, pressing her lips together in thought as her eyes roamed the display of gems in every colour, necklaces in every style, rings of every size and shape imaginable. "Antique pink sapphire ring's nice," she said. "Have you got nine hundred galleons?"

She met his eye, grinning cheekily, and he shook his head. "Maybe I should go back to Grimmauld and have a look down the back of the sofa," he said.

"I wouldn't do that," she said, with great mock seriousness. "There's all sorts nesting in there. You'd probably lose a finger."

"Hmm," he murmured, delighting in the way her mock serious face slowly gave way to a smile he would have thought shy, were shy not a word he couldn't quite think to apply to Tonks.

"Who you shopping for, anyway?" she said, raising her eyebrows at him.

"My mother," he said, a little surprised how quickly and easily the lie had come.

"Oh," she said, her eyebrows darting up in surprise. "I didn't know you had a mother."

He'd barely registered her conversational stumble when Tonks winced, her cheeks turning even pinker than they were already from the cold and drawing even more attention to what she'd just said. "I mean – _obviously_ you've got one, because, you know, everyone has," she said quickly, rolling her eyes in annoyance at herself that he couldn't help but find desperately endearing. "I just – you hadn't mentioned her."

"For a moment there," he said, leaning towards her ever so slightly and tilting his chin so he could peer up at her through the bottom of his fringe, "I thought I was going to have to take you to one side and shatter your illusion about babies coming from cabbage patches," he said, and she laughed.

"You mean they don't?" she said, widening her eyes in mock-shock that was really very convincing.

"No," he said. "You see, Tonks, when two people love each other very much – "

She chuckled and gave him an admonishing shove, but in doing so lost her footing on the icy cobbles and slipped, her hips shooting backwards and her head forwards, coming perilously close to banging against his chest. His hands darted forward of their own accord, gripping her arms and arresting her progress, holding her still, steady, safe. Her startled expression gave way to something that looked like relief but he wasn't sure was, and she met his eye with a cautious hopefulness that twisted his insides.

And for a moment that felt like eternity, they just looked at each other.

She bit her lip.

His heart raced.

He thanked his lucky stars for icy cobbles.

"Thanks," she said, and her voice was wonderfully, delightfully, breathy.

"All right?" he asked, righting her and then slowly, reluctantly, releasing her arms.

She swallowed, and then nodded, and Remus wondered if this was the time, the moment, to tell her that he liked her; liked her as more than a friend, a colleague, someone to have a laugh with, to tell her that if she wanted him to, he'd always be there to catch her when icy cobbles got the better of her.

She smiled, and he couldn't remember quite what he'd been thinking. "The broach is nice," she said, turning back to the window. "It'd go nicely with scarves and things. It'd suit her if she's got your colouring."

"I thought you said you had girl genes missing?" he said softly.

She let out a soft breath of laughter and it seemed to banish the last vestiges of cold from his body. "Maybe I've got that one," she said and the twinkle in her eyes as she met his made his breathing seem far too loud and obvious.

The clock in the Post Office tower struck, and Tonks started. "Merlin, I'm late," she said, pulling her hat further down over her ears. "I'm meeting a friend in the Three Broomsticks," she added, smiling apologetically as she gestured down the road to the pub, "otherwise I'd stay and help you choose."

"Maybe another time?" he said. "Still a couple of shopping days before Christmas."

"Hmm," Tonks said, smiling at him in a way that made his insides tingle with hope and expectation. "I'm sure we'll – you know – see each other around."

He nodded, he hoped with understated enthusiasm for the idea – which was difficult when on the inside he was leaping in the air and clicking his heels together. "Well, I'd better go," she said.

"Of course."

She bid him a cheerful goodbye, and then walked away across the cobbles and down towards the Three Broomsticks, leaving Remus unable to feel his feet, but keenly aware of the blood in his veins, his pounding heart, and the twist in his stomach.

* * *

**A/N: Happy New Year! Hope you all had a suitable festive festive season.   
**

**Reviewers get a festive bribe in the form of a perfectly chosen Christmas pressie from your favourite fanfic Remus: Thoughtful Remus makes you a personalised WWN broadcast with all your favourite tunes; Romantic Remus takes you on a frosty stroll at night, star-gazing; Flirty Remus makes you mulled cider and peers at you suggestively through his fringe; and Sexy Remus provides chocolates and mistletoe ;)   
**

**Incidentally, this is a 3-parter, and I aim to have the other two up this week. Cheers! **


	2. Chapter 2

Remus sat at the table, thinking hard.

It was only three days 'til Christmas – he wondered, fleetingly, if that made it Christmas Eve Eve Eve – and he still hadn't decided what to get Tonks.

At this rate, all he was going to have to offer her was his heart – and, poetic and seasonal as that was, it wasn't really the kind of thing he could put a bow on and stash under the tree.

The door creaked open, and Sirius staggered into the kitchen, drunk on Christmas spirit, and something altogether more tangible. Remus' eyes fixed on the half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand.

"Are you moping about Tonks again?" Sirius said, settling into the chair next to the fire and resting the bottle on his knee.

"No. I don't – I'm not – " Remus protested. Then he sighed. Protesting was futile, and he didn't really have the energy for it. "Yes," he said, letting his head drop onto his waiting hand, and Sirius sniggered.

He gestured to the bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand, and when Remus nodded, he _Summoned_ a glass and poured him a large measure. Remus leant forward and clinked his glass against Sirius' bottle. "Cheers," he said.

"Merry Christmas," Sirius said.

"You certainly seem in the festive mood," Remus said, taking a sip of his Firewhiskey and then swirling it around in his glass, watching as the firelight caught on the amber hints in the liquid, making it actually look as if he held fire in his hands.

"Hmm," Sirius said. "It's nice, having Harry – everyone – here. Wish it was under different circumstances, obviously," he added, a frown passing over his features just slightly. Remus murmured in agreement. "So," Sirius said, clapping his hands together and startling them both a little. "Decided what to buy her for Christmas yet?"

"And by 'her' you mean..?"

"Don't play coy with me, Moony," Sirius said. "I know you've only had one female on the brain for months now, so I hardly think I need to spell it out."

Remus chuckled quietly to himself, and looked away. He should have known Sirius would see straight through whatever charade it was he'd been putting up. "Of course if you want me to spell it out, it's n-y-m-f – oh no, wait – p – h?" Sirius looked adorably perplexed for a moment, and then sighed, waving away his spelling ineptitude. "Whatever. You know who I mean. Pink hair, dark eyes, tight T shirts – "

Remus met Sirius' eye with a wry glare, and Sirius sniggered at him, but thankfully didn't go on. Remus ran a hand over his face and let out a long, drawn out breath. "I can assure you that my Christmas shopping is all done, save one item," he said.

"The one item left being the most important one?"

"Of course," Remus said.

"Do you know what you're getting?"

"Nearly," Remus said, frowning at the thought.

"Well that's progress," Sirius said.

"Hmm," Remus murmured in an entirely unconvinced tone.

"It is," Sirius said. "When I asked you yesterday you said you didn't have a bloody clue – we're inching in the right direction."

"Inching," Remus said. "Let's hope we get there in time for this year, eh?"

Remus took a sip of his Firewhiskey, letting its warmth course through him and gazed into the flames in the grate, hoping for some kind of divine Christmas present inspiration.

"You know what she'd really like for Christmas?" Sirius said.

"A day off and a nice long sit down?" Remus said, and Sirius rolled his eyes and then smirked.

"There's mistletoe in the hallway."

"Of that I'm well aware," Remus said, "having _Conjured_ a good deal of it myself."

"Why don't you put it to good use, then?" Sirius said. "A Christmas kiss is the gift that keeps on giving – if you play your cards right – and I'm sure she wouldn't ask for the receipt."

Remus hummed again, and while he couldn't deny that the idea of kissing Tonks – under mistletoe or otherwise – was certainly on _his _wish list this Christmas, he really thought he should get her something real, tangible, something that wouldn't look out of place presented in front of the children and Molly Weasley.

He looked up and met Sirius' eye. Sirius raised his eyebrows hopefully, and Remus frowned in return. "You're not taken with the idea," Sirius said. "Ok, let's keep thinking. What are your thoughts so far?"

"I was thinking – well, to be honest, I was thinking jewellery," he said.

"Are you sure you want to get her something so – " Sirius trailed off and his forehead creased. "What's the word?"

"Expensive?" Remus offered, but Sirius shook his head. "Girly?" he said, getting another shake of Sirius' head for his trouble. Remus searched for another adjective for jewellery, drawing something of a blank. "Er – shiny?" he offered, more in hope than expectation that he'd hit the nail on the head.

"No," Sirius said, waving his suggestions away impatiently. He thought, hard, for a moment, the lines on his forehead getting deeper and more pronounced by the second, and then he said "fixed."

Remus took a moment to think – to wonder if Sirius had slurred some other word, but he couldn't think of anything that made sense. He met Sirius' eye questioningly. "Fixed?" he said. "I don't – "

"Well she's always changing, isn't she?" Sirius said. "Are you going to get her something to go with her pink hair, or something to go with that festive red she's been wearing? And then there's the time her hair's – you know – hair colour, but then sometimes it's green, isn't it? And you know women and their guff about coordination."

Remus frowned, perturbed. It was certainly a point.

He ran his hands through his hair.

He was back to square one. He'd thought it was bad enough trying to narrow down his thoughts from 'jewellery' the vague, abstract concept, to something specific, but now he was back with the gift-buying world at his feet and nary a thought about how to narrow it down in a different direction.

He sighed. Maybe his heart would look nice gift-wrapped after all….

He sighed again, downing the rest of his Firewhiskey in frustration that his brain hadn't come up with any more gift ideas, but as Sirius leaned forward and re-filled his glass, he had the inkling, the very tiniest inkling, of an idea.

He tried not to force the idea, to frighten it away, and he let it form on its own, of its own accord.

And then smiled.

It wasn't just a good idea – it was a great idea, tricky to pull off in the time frame available, but he could hardly call himself a Marauder if he shirked a challenge.

"What are you smiling at?" Sirius said. "I thought we were moping?"

"We were," Remus said. "And now we're not."

He could barely contain his excitement, and so he didn't even try. He got up from his chair, and placed an exaggerated, noisy kiss on Sirius' forehead, affectionately ruffling his hair. "What was that for?" Sirius said, looking utterly stunned as he flopped back in his chair, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Because you, Sirius Black, are a bloody genius," Remus said, retreating from the table and up the stairs.

"Am I?" Sirius said, and then grinned. "Well, I suppose it has been said…."

"Back in a minute," Remus called over his shoulder as he reached the door. "Please don't pass out while I'm gone – there's a chance I might need your expertise."

* * *

The library was deserted, and Remus perused the shelves. Over the months he'd spent here he'd got to know them like the back of his hand, and Sirius' mother had been fastidious about her arrangement of books, grouping them by subject matter and then alphabetically by author. He ran a finger across the middle shelf that contained reference books on miscellaneous subjects, passing by _The Poisoner's Poison_ and a selection of volumes on plants that fought back and were great for improving security, but finding another half dozen or so that he thought fitted his purposes admirably. He piled them up in his arms, and went back downstairs. 

Sirius was sipping his Firewhiskey by the fire where Remus had left him, and when he took in the pile of books in Remus' arms he rolled his eyes. "I knew I should have feigned sleep until I'd figured out what you were up to," he said.

"You don't know what I'm up to, yet," Remus said.

"I know enough," Sirius said, gesturing to the pile. "I know there's bleeding homework."

Remus bit back a laugh in favour of a glower over the cover of the top dusty volume, and set the books down on the table, where they thudded ominously. Sirius took a gulp of Firewhiskey and then got to his feet, coming over to the table and leaning on it heavily, squinting at the gold and silver embossed titles on the leather bound front covers. "_The Alchemist's Almanac_?" he said.

"Uh huh."

Sirius frowned. "You're going to learn alchemy in two days so you can afford to buy her a proper present?" he said. "I know you're not exactly slow on the uptake, Moony, but don't you think it's pushing it when most people can't learn it in a lifetime?"

Remus sighed. "I'm not trying to learn alchemy," he said. "I just thought there might be something useful in there."

Sirius picked up one of the other volumes, and blew the dust off the cover, coughing a little at the cloud of dust particles and Merlin knew what else that he produced. He wiped at the cover with his sleeve until the title was visible. "_Charming Stones for Profit and Pleasure,_" he said. He stared, perplexed, at the title for a moment, and then realisation of some kind seemed to dawn. "Am I to take it we're more on the pleasure side of things than the profit?"

"Well, hopefully," Remus muttered. "I thought we'd start with this one."

He held up _Semi-Precious and Precious Stones and Their Suitability for Cursing _and tapped the cover, before sinking down at the table and opening the book to the index, trailing down the list of chapter titles until something looked promising.

Sirius drew back a chair on the opposite side of the table, scraping the legs across the floor. "I'm still not quite sure what we're doing," he said, as he settled into the chair and yawned.

"Well it's liked you said," Remus said, looking up from his dusty volume. "It must drive her batty to have everything be so fixed, so I'm going to charm her a stone that obeys her every command," he said. Sirius' eye widened a little to indicate that he was on the very verge of being impressed. "Then she can change it to whatever she wants – to match her hair or her clothes, obviously, but it could keep her safe, too – she could change it into any protective stone she might need for work."

Sirius grinned, but Remus knew better to think his old friend was pleased, or impressed by his ingenuity. "You're right," he said smugly, confirming Remus' suspicions. "I am a bloody genius."

Remus threw _The_ _Compendium of Gems_ at him. "Well then," he said, "get reading."

* * *

It turned out that charming stones for profit or pleasure was a relatively easy process. 

Well, not easy in the strictest sense of the word, Remus thought. Most people, he reasoned – normal people – would think staying up until dawn reading up on the theory, snatching two hours' sleep, and then trudging out into Hogsmeade as soon as the shops opened, spending half an hour standing outside in the freezing cold without the delight of a pink haired Auror to distract them from the creeping frostbite in their extremities while they dithered over which pendant to get, coming back, charming the stone, and then spending the next thirteen hours teaching it every stone and gem in the _Compendium of Gems _and _Precious and Semi-Precious Stones And Their Suitability For Cursing _was actually quite a lot of work.

However, he thought, from the perspective of a man who had, in his youth, stayed up for seventy-two hours trying to perfect a cruciferous vegetable-head hex to use on the git who stole his girlfriend, it wasn't a major undertaking, and as he sat at the table, a little bleary-eyed and light-headed from lack of sleep, gazing at the teardrop shaped pendant in his palm, he thought it'd all been worth it.

Even though he'd been testing the stone on and off all day, he couldn't resist having one more check that it worked, and it hadn't been his sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on him.

Hematite, he thought, thinking how well the stone would go with Tonks' beautiful twinkling eyes. The stone turned silvery black in his hand, and he smiled.

Pink Sapphire,he thought, half-picturing the stone he'd seen in the jeweller's window, and half the colour Tonks' hair had been when he'd run into her in Hogsmeade. He was so lost in a daydream he barely noticed the stone change.

He tried a couple of other stones – obscure ones he wasn't sure anyone but the author of the book on his knee had even heard of, and then, satisfied that the charm held, he _Summoned_ the red velvet gift box from the dresser, and nestled the necklace inside, arranging the pendant on the tissue paper until he was happy with the way it looked.

He wrapped it carefully, _Conjuring_ a green bow and some imitation holly sprigs to nestle in the knot, and then looked at the box on the table in front of him. It looked perfect.

Now all he had to do was find the perfect moment to give it to her.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Anyone who reviews this one gets an all-night study session with a fanfic Remus of their choice: Studious Remus insists you work in silence, but keeps shooting meaningful glances at you from behind his copy of Hogwarts, A History; Sexy Remus abandons the pretence of studying anything but lips two minutes in; Flirty Remus hands you suggestive tomes until you get the message; and Shy Remus studies hard, but passes you notes, blushing furiously every time your hands brush. **


	3. Chapter 3

Remus had just pocketed Tonks' gift and decided to call it a night when there was the noise of someone stumbling upstairs. He frowned, glancing at his watch and wondering what on earth any of the children – or Molly – would be doing out of bed so late. Especially after they'd all had a mug of Sirius' mulled wine, and theoretically should be incapacitated for hours.

He got to his feet, thinking that perhaps Sirius' stupor had worn off and he needed some kind of assistance, and went to investigate, even though offering assistance to a post-stupor Sirius was arguably his least favourite late night task.

But rather than Sirius' limp form strewn somewhere, letting out a plaintive moan for help, Remus found Tonks. She was standing near the front door, her arms full of a box brimming with tinsel, wincing because every time she put her foot down, the boards beneath her creaked, and Mrs Black took a sharp, anticipatory breath behind her partially closed curtain.

Tonks met his eye, gazing at him with an odd mixture of gratitude and embarrassment, and Remus smiled to let her know he understood her predicament, his insides lighting up at the thought that she was much more fun to help than her inebriated cousin. He stepped towards Mrs Black's painting, easing the curtains into his hands in preparation, and then motioned for Tonks to step back the way she'd come. Tonks took a step towards the door, and when the floorboard creaked beneath her feet, he grimaced in expectation at the very second she did.

But the tirade from Mrs Black about half-breeds and shape-shifting freaks never came, and as Tonks inched to the side and up the stairs, weighing every step carefully and biting her lip hard in concentration as she placed her feet, Remus quietly drew Mrs Black's curtain more firmly around her, and then edged down the hall and up the stairs to join her.

Once they were both ensconced in the drawing room, Tonks let out a long sigh of relief. "Thanks," she said. "I thought – well, one false move and I'd have woken the whole house up."

Remus doubted it. Sirius' mulled wine had been more than potent enough to knock everyone out for the foreseeable.

His eyes roved her face, taking in her festive red hair that somehow – against all laws of rhyme and reason – suited her, and her dark, beckoning eyes that twinkled even more than usual in the darkness. "You're here late," he said, smiling and turning his wand on the fire, lighting it and making shadows dance around the room, over the Christmas tree and decorations, the light from the flames making the baubles glint orange and emphasising the kindness of Tonks' expression.

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Hmm," she said. "Didn't intend to be – I was supposed to be finished at eight, but I had a load of stuff I needed to get done so I can take a proper break for Christmas."

He hummed sympathetically, and wondered if this wasn't the moment to tell her how he felt – firelight and impending Christmas were both on his side for a romantic setting – and the gift in his pocket was poking his leg, attempting to give him the encouraging prod he needed to give it to her.

Tonks juggled the box in her arms, and the noise attracted his attention. "Oh, let me help you," he said, reaching for the box and lifting it out of her arms, putting it on the dresser. He gestured vaguely to the contents and then met her eye and raised an eyebrow. "In the mood for portable festive spirit?" he said, and she sniggered.

"No," she said. "I had this stuff at my flat, but I'm not going to be there much, so I thought I'd put it to use here, maybe."

He raised his eyebrows and nodded in approval, trying to banish the idea that this was all some excuse to see him, and failing. Tonks shrugged. "Thought it'd be nice for Sirius," she said. "Putting up all the Christmas stuff seemed to really cheer him up."

"Hmm," he murmured, and glanced at her, meeting her eye with a smile, which she returned.

"Where is he, anyway?"

"Asleep. We – er – well, we had a bit of a late night last night, and then he made some mulled wine that was a little heavier on the wine than the mull – "

"Oh," Tonks said, smiling in realisation. "So much for my plan, then."

Remus swallowed, his eyes flickering from the box of tinsel to her pointedly disappointed yet stoic smile, and then back again. She'd presented him with the perfect opportunity for them to spend some time together, for him to maybe find the perfect moment to give her her gift, or to inch slowly towards telling her – or showing her – how he felt.

He decided not to waste it, a proverb about fortune favouring the brave flitting through his mind. "Well, not necessarily," he said. "If you'd still like to – " He gestured to the box of tinsel and then waved vaguely at the room. "I'm always in the mood to deck the halls – unless you'd rather wait?"

"No," Tonks said, grinning. "No time like the present, and all that."

"Indeed," he said, and took a couple of steadying deep breaths to try and arrest the deafening pounding of his seasonally poetic heart.

Remus turned to the selection of decorations Tonks had brought, nonchalantly picking up one end of a string of bright red tinsel and trying to extract it from the box. A bit of decorating, he thought, would set the mood nicely. He gathered up the string of tinsel in his hand, looking for the other end.

But the tinsel kept on coming.

He pulled harder, and yet more emerged, and then more and more until it pooled at his feet and he was beginning to wonder if it wasn't some kind of novelty infinite tinsel which she'd brought to play a joke on him. "What is..?" he asked, meeting her eye with what he fancied must be a rather baffled expression. Tonks sniggered into her fingers.

"It's extra long," she said. "I bought it last year to do the whole lounge in one go."

"Oh," Remus said, still battling with the ever increasing pile in his hands.

Eventually, the end was in sight, and he breathed a sigh of relief, although the sigh turned out to be premature, since the end was tightly wound around another string of the stuff, and yet more was wound around that. As he pulled on the red string he ended up bringing the other couple of strings – one blue one with tiny silver stars nestling amongst it and another in sparkling gold – with it, and Tonks laughed as he juggled the three, slippery strings in his hands, dropping more than he managed to hold onto and ending up with a small mountain of tinsel up to his knees. He looked, he suspected, rather like an inept Muggle magician whose infinite hanky trick had gone a bit awry. He let out a brief huff of amusement, before giving up and letting all of it fall to the floor in one tangled, smugly sparkling, mess. "You know what we need?" he said.

"A time-turner so I can back to last year and put that lot away neatly?" Tonks said, and he laughed.

"That might be handy," he said, trying to step out of the pool of tinsel he'd created at his own feet with as much dignity and finesse as he could, "but I was thinking rather more about some mulled wine. I think there's some left."

He raised an eyebrow in question, Tonks nodded, and after properly extracting himself from the clingy clutches of the tinsel, Remus went downstairs to pour them both a large mug full of the cinnamon and clove scented red wine.

There was plenty left – he thought Sirius had rather over-estimated everyone else's drinking prowess as well as his own – and as he selected a mug bearing the legend 'Bah hum mug' for Tonks and a Chudley Canons one for himself, he couldn't help marvelling at how tired he'd felt, and how alive and awake he was now she was here.

It wasn't an effect he was unused to – many nights after missions she'd somehow managed to inspire him to stay up for and extra hour or so to talk, or to laugh, and even saying goodbye some nights had taken them in excess of twenty minutes. It was one of the reasons he liked her. She made him feel –

He wasn't really sure what the word was. When she was around he was excited, and nervous – in fact, she made him feel like he had when he'd spent months exchanging furtive glances of lust and longing in the Hogwarts library with Olivia Crosby, although he hoped he was a little better with girls now than he had been then.

He frowned at the thought that his display with the tinsel rather proved otherwise, but took solace in the fact that he really didn't think Tonks was the kind of girl who'd hold tinsel-separating ineptitude against him.

He went back up to the drawing room, handing Tonks the bah hum mug and taking a sip of his mulled wine. Tonks raised her mug to her lips, took a sip, and her eyes widened. She let out a slight cough. "My," she said, a little hoarsely, "that is strong."

"Hmm," he murmured. "More than two mugs would, I suspect, knock a hippogriff out."

"Explains what happened to Sirius, then," she muttered, meeting his eye cheekily and blowing on her mulled wine.

"Actually," Remus said, "he managed six before he retired for the evening."

"How many have you had so far?"

"Just the one," he said, "but I am feeling a bit tipsy, actually."

Tonks laughed. " S'alright," she said. "I won't arrest you for decorating under the influence."

"Thank you."

Tonks grinned, and there was something intoxicatingly coy about it. "How'd you get on the other day, anyway?" she said. "Did you find something for your mum?"

"Yes," Remus said. "Inspiration struck."

"Good," Tonks murmured, taking another sip of her mulled wine. "I'm glad you've found something she'll like."

"Well, something I hope she'll like."

Tonks raised an eyebrow. "Only hope?" she said. "Isn't she contractually obliged to love whatever you get her?"

"Yes," he said, "but it'd be nice if when she made a delighted face on opening it, it wasn't a fake one."

Tonks smiled. "That's true," she said. "No-one wants fake gratitude. Puts rather a crimp in your Christmas spirit."

"Indeed."

"I'm sure she'll love it," she said.

"You sound very certain," he said, hiding a smile behind his mug as he took a sip of his wine.

"Mmm," she said, eyeing him appraisingly. "Well, you just seem the sort of person who'd buy people things they'd like."

"Do I?"

"Hmm," she said, and he wondered if it was the firelight, or if she was actually blushing. "Anyway," she said, with rather more gusto than the word deserved, "shall we decorate?"

They set their mugs down and crouched on the floor next to the twinkling pile of tinsel that he'd so deftly liberated from its box, agreeing that they should get to it while they were both upright and reasonably sentient.

It took them a while to untangle the tinsel – longer, he suspected, than was strictly necessary because every time their hands brushed they'd meet each other's eyes and it'd feel like the world had stopped spinning. And then one of them would laugh, or mutter something about tinsel being pesky stuff, or make a joke about it being clingy, and they'd carry on trying to unravel the stuff until it happened again.

Eventually, though, they both had a string in each hand and no idea where to put them. "I think I've spotted the flaw in the plan," Remus said, getting to his feet and gesturing vaguely to the room that was already brimming with decorations. "The only thing in here that isn't appropriately festive is us."

Tonks chuckled. "Well that's easily fixed," she said, and took out her wand, hooking one end of the tinsel he was holding with a spell and flicking it deftly around his neck like a feather boa.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she grinned. "What do you think?" he said. "Is red my colour?"

"You look like a dame," she said, covering her mouth with her hand and laughing into her fingers.

"What?"

"You know, from panto," she said. "My Muggle gran used to take me every year – the dame is a bloke who dresses as a middle-aged woman. He normally gets all the best jokes, though."

"Oh I know what a dame is," Remus said, tossing one end of the tinsel over his shoulder in a mock-flounce that earned him a larger grin from Tonks. "I was just astounded that you'd think me one when I'm clearly leading lady material."

Tonks laughed into her fingers again, and then reached for her mulled wine, taking a sip. "I used to go every year too," he said. "I had Muggle grandparents."

"Oh," she said, eyes widening in surprise. "I didn't know you had – "

She trailed off, biting her lip and grinning at him sheepishly. He inched his eyebrow higher. "The other day you were surprised I have a mother and now you're surprised I have grandparents," he said. "I really think it's time we had that talk about cabbage patches."

She gave him an admonishing poke on the shoulder. "Are you ever going to let me live that down?" she said.

"Not in this lifetime," he said, taking out his wand and swirling the blue and silver tinsel Tonks was holding about her neck a couple of times while she laughed.

"What do you think?" she said, cocking her head and indicating the neckwear he'd given her and then the tinsel he was sporting. "Will it catch on?"

"It's undoubtedly festive," he said. Tonks toyed with the tinsel at her neck in an adorably irritated fashion.

"Itches a bit, though," she said sheepishly.

"Indeed."

Reluctantly they both unravelled their tinsel, and then by unspoken but mutual agreement, swapped, so that she could add the red tinsel to the tree and he the blue to the mantelpiece. "So which was your favourite?" Tonks said, and Remus raised an eyebrow at her in question. "Panto," she said.

"Cinderella," he said, wondering if it weren't a rather odd thing to admit, "although I'll confess I always wanted to boo Prince Charming and root for Buttons."

Tonks laughed. "What?" he said. To take his mind off the blush burgeoning on his cheeks, Remus fixed his attention on adorning the mantelpiece with the tinsel. "Buttons and Cinderella are quite clearly a better match than she is with the Prince – I mean the only thing the Prince really knows about her is that she's got small feet. Hardly the basis for a lasting relationship."

"I suppose you were rooting for the Genie and Aladdin to get it on as well?" Tonks said, her voice dancing with amused derision.

Remus regarded her over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Actually I always fancied Wishy-Washy and the Genie had a bit of a thing for each other," he said, biting back a laugh.

"Really?" she said.

"Oh yes," he said, turning back to the mantelpiece and needlessly fluffing the tinsel into position.

Tonks' snigger was almost – but not quite – drowned out by the rustle of the extra-long string of bright red tinsel as she manoeuvred it into place around the tree. "Which was your favourite, then?" he said.

"Dick Whittington," she said.

He opened his mouth to say that he'd always been quite fond of that one too, but didn't get the chance. "And I'd prefer it if you didn't besmirch my childhood memories by insinuating that Dick had a thing for his cat," she said.

He clutched his chest in mock offence, and she laughed. "I wasn't about to insinuate any such thing," he said. "It's quite clearly written into the script…."

Tonks rolled her eyes at him but chuckled anyway, finishing draping the tinsel around the tree with a flourish. She helped him cover the small bookcase in the corner with the gold string, and Remus leant against the dresser, standing back to admire their handiwork. Tonks joined him, bumping his hip with hers. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I think it looked better on you than it does on the tree," she said, nodding at the red tinsel twinkling out at them from between the pine branches.

"You think?" he said, turning towards her ever so slightly.

"Hmm," she said. "Suited you."

Their eyes met.

She bit her lip.

His breathing quickened.

They were standing very close – more than friends close, and they both knew it.

In the firelight, with the glittering glow of decorations all around them, Tonks looked particularly fetching, and he knew that here it was, the perfect opportunity to kiss her. She smiled up at him with something that looked a little bit like hopeful expectation, and Remus swallowed.

His heart pounded – but from nowhere, doubt started to creep in, completely unbidden.

What if it wasn't hopeful expectation in her eyes at all? What if it was just a friendly – slightly tipsy – twinkle? What if the glittering glow from the tinsel was playing tricks on him, letting him see what he wanted to see, rather than what was there?

His chest constricted. It wasn't as if he had a stellar record with this kind of thing – in fact, he thought that to find a man with poorer romantic judgement he'd have to go back as far as ancient Rome.

But the way she was looking at him….

What he needed was a reason to kiss her.

A reason other than that he wanted to.

A reason other than that he thought she might possibly want him to.

A reason other than that the thought of kissing her had been so much on his mind recently that he'd barely had two other thoughts to rub together.

What he needed, he thought, was the auspice of tradition: he needed mistletoe.

Then, if he _was_ wrong, she'd just assume he was being festive – or that he'd had too much mulled wine – and she wouldn't hold it against him. And if he _wasn't_ wrong and she did reciprocate his feelings – his knees went a little jelly-like at the thought – she'd make the most of the opportunity, and he'd know, then, how she felt.

Mistletoe was definitely the answer.

The place was littered with the stuff, and yet he knew – having _Conjured_ the vast majority of it himself – that there wasn't any anywhere near where they were standing.

He thought – momentarily – about trying to somehow edge her out into the hallway where he'd put a rather impressive spray of the stuff, but an altogether simpler solution to his problem quickly presented itself.

Furtively, he reached for his wand, and while he held her gaze as a distraction, _Conjured_ a sprig of mistletoe just above their heads.

Look up, look up, look up, he thought.

Tonks' eyes didn't waver from his.

Hell, he thought.

Moments passed. He reiterated his silent plea for her to look up, even twitching his wand a little and making the mistletoe shake with an – he thought – unmissable rustle. But her huge, dark eyes stayed fixed on his – which under any other circumstance would have had his insides leaping in the air and clicking their heels, but now just made them shrink in disappointment.

Eventually, she cleared her throat.

"Well," she said, with what he fancied was rather false brightness, "it's getting late."

Remus internally called himself a moron. He'd let the perfect moment slip through his fingers. "Hmm," he murmured, feeling it was a rather inadequate reply and didn't really make up for his moronity. If that was even a word.

"I'll say goodnight, then," she said.

"Ok," he replied dumbly. And then, feeling as if he really did owe her something, he added "this has been nice."

He was still hoping with every inch of his being that she'd look up and see the berries and leaves above their heads.

But she didn't. She just shot him a smile that twisted his insides and replied with a murmur of agreement. "Goodnight," she said softly, and he echoed her even more softly.

As she disappeared into the hallway and her footsteps retreated, Remus dropped his head onto the doorframe with a quiet thunk, and then beat it gently against the frame another couple of times for good measure.

Idiot.

He made a mental note to adjust his sprig sizes in the future.

He sighed and collected their mugs, taking them down to the kitchen to wash them.

He rinsed the mugs without paying much attention to the task in hand, lost in an idle daydream about Tonks and mistletoe and her face lit with dancing firelight, and then climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

He fingered the gift still in his pocket.

Christmas presents had always been a tricky thing for him, and this one was the trickiest of them all, because he'd never cared quite so much about a gift being well received.

He tried not to be too disheartened by the lack of romantic progress he'd made that evening. After all, there were still a couple of days until Christmas, and that meant, hopefully, plenty more opportunities for him to find the perfect moment to give her his present, the perfect time to let her know – subtly, but undoubtedly – that although he hadn't wrapped it and put it under the tree, his heart was hers for the taking.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and especially to those of you who reviewed. Reviewers this time get their pick of seasonal treats: Flirty Remus, who makes mulled cider and peers at you through his fringe as he drinks; Sexy Dame Remus, who wears tinsel and insists you do the same; and Thoughtful Remus, who comes over to help you get the pine needles out of the carpet with a handy spell. **


End file.
